Chapter 4
Looking to her left and right, Lily slipped out of the side door of the Inn where her family had lodging. The stench of the city made the bile rise in her throat. She had to pause a moment as waves of nausea overcame her.
She doubted she would ever get used to the filth, the glory, and the weight of overwhelming humanity that London represented. Only her eagerness to meet her dearest John spurred her on.
She had not seen her gallant swain save in the distance with her brothers.
Lambert had said they were acquaintances.
Much to Lily’s surprise and delight, it did not appear that Lambert had any objection to her inquiring about John.
Naturally, Lily did not tell him that they arranged to meet.
No one knew. Lily didn’t dare tell even her nurse, Mol, and she knew just about everything there was to know about Lily’s life.
The coronation presented a unique opportunity, so John had written, and Lily had agreed wholeheartedly.
Pulling her deep hood down over her face, she hurried up the street toward the small stone church of Mary of the Meadows. The frosty ground demanded she take care.
For Lily, going unsupervised out on the street was risky and a little frightening.
Were she to be caught, she would be severely punished.
Still, she decided to take the chance. She wanted to show John how much he meant to her, that she would break the conventional rules governing young women’s lives, dare much to tryst with him.
Bee would have done it, she knew, but then Bee boasted a far more adventurous soul than she.
At least, Lily sighed, her mother would not discover her gone.
Lady Elizabeth, difficult at the best of times, was currently occupied in an ongoing quarrel with a court lackey who’d had the temerity to advise Stanbury to escort his wife home.
She was, he explained, prohibited from attending any of the royal celebrations.
Her husband could not have been more eager to obey. He hated London—the noise, the stink, the jumble. He grumbled about everything. Unsurprisingly, he could not persuade his wife any more than the court servant who’d fled the lady’s wrath with only his skin intact.
No, Lily would have no trouble from that quarter. Frankly, Lady Elizabeth rarely bothered with either of her daughters.
More than ever, Lily felt the need for John’s reassuring words. Tender words, she hoped. Perhaps even a kind embrace from her gallant swain.
She’d been unnerved yesterday and tried unsuccessfully to shake the Black Raven from her mind. Somehow, she kept seeing those audacious, blatantly impolite eyes. His challenge had left her discomforted, to say the least.
Then, last night, she’d dreamed of a pure white bull with a lump on its back. On closer inspection, the lump transformed into a maiden. Lily had held out her hand to help the lady climb down, but as she did, a huge black raven descended from the sky and grasped her wrist in its talons.
Lily found it unsettling, the whole thing.
Reason enough to seek out John. He was one of the lesser sons of a lesser branch of the powerful Percy family.
Her brother, Lambert, mentioned once that John’s prospects as a husband were poor.
As a husband for Lily, they were nonexistent.
Nevertheless, Lily felt certain that John would come up with a solution to that particular problem; meanwhile, her brother did not object.
Would things move along fast enough so that she could broach the subject? Bee would have said yes. Lily didn’t know. She would have to see.
A cold wind picked up. Lily drew her cloak tighter about her. A hollow sound skittered along the walls of the tall, narrow buildings and hurried her up the deserted street. Thankfully, no one hindered her. All the same, she was glad when she reached the sanctuary of the church.
Her excitement grew. She’d made it here. Her heart was racing. Her deep blue eyes, alive with expectation, sparkled, and there were roses in her cheeks that spoke of vivacity and an eagerness for adventure.
According to her instructions, as per John’s note, their rendezvous point lay at the rear of the church in a small side chapel.
The church lay silent. She slid past the tomb of some Englishman with a vaguely familiar name and found herself in a small alcove.
It may have once housed a statue, probably of the Virgin.
Only the plinth remained, but it made a perfectly good seat.
Lily sat in the shadows and waited for John. Her pulse drummed harder with each passing moment. At length, a footstep alerted her that she was not alone.
“John,” she called in a whisper. “John.”
There was no answer. Very cautiously, she tiptoed out of the alcove and peered around the bulk of the knight’s tomb.
“Ah, there you are,” said a deep voice, and out of the shadows of the vestibule stepped the Black Raven. “I thought I recognized you in the street, but when I followed you indoors, poof, you had vanished, just like that.” And he snapped his fingers.
Lily just stared at him. Her eyes grew wide, her mouth took the shape of an O.
“I am surprised to see you once again alone in a compromising place. I should not have thought it possible to happen twice, but here we are… A habit?”
“But I am in church, sir. That’s hardly compromising,” she protested.
“Well, that’s not true,” he said. He smiled. An irksome dent appeared next to his mouth briefly. A dimple? She was intrigued, but his next words banished all civility. “Or let me put it this way, it can be made untrue. Quite easily, actually.”
Lily was outraged. She understood his meaning even though such an idea had never entered the realm of her consciousness before. She would not put it past him to behave in an unseemly way to ensure she was compromised.
“You wouldn’t dare,” she said, backing up a few steps. She was hindered by the tomb behind her.
He stepped forward, blocking her passage. “I assure you, I would.”
“My father would kill you.”
“A risk I would take.”
“My brothers would kill you.”
“Small price, given the odds.”
It was then she noticed the pulse in his jaw. He did not hide the flurry of fire in his strange golden eyes. He was in a temper. She could not fathom why. Surely it could have nothing to do with her little assignation?
Firstly, he couldn’t know of it, and secondly, it had nothing to do with him. Thirdly, what was he doing following her in here in the first place?
He had no authority over her, no allegiance to her father, that was certain.
Her father despised the man.
“So here we are, and the question of compromise is not resolved.”
“And I say again, your threats are idle. We are in a church. You would not desecrate a church, surely?”
“Shall I show you how easily it can be done?” he asked silkily.
He took another step closer to her. She backed up until her back pressed against the wall.
Casually and without taking his eyes from her, he placed a hand on the wall, one on either side of her head, and pinned her there with his eyes alone.
Lily shook her head. Not daring to speak, not daring to move. She wasn’t certain that she remembered to breathe. Her head began to swim wildly.
“You are lovely…” he said, “like a lily.” He tilted her chin up with his forefinger and bent his head. His lips brushed hers. His kiss was almost chaste, polite. A greeting and nothing more. She sensed the ebb of his anger. His jaw stopped twitching. His eyes became slumberous.
“Oh yes, definitely worth the risk,” he said.
Again, he touched her lips with his own, lingering for a moment, sliding over the satin softness and the innocence.
He flicked his tongue along her lower lip as if tasting the nectar there.
Lily felt the lure of something distant, a primal call, a sound made just for her.
She did not understand it, but her eyes opened in wonder.
She gazed up at him, her bewilderment apparent in her expression. Lily did not know about seduction and the games of sophisticates. She didn’t even know that such things existed, so she failed to hide how pleasurable his touch felt to her.
A third time, he brought his mouth slanting over hers. This time, he took possession of her mouth, fitting his lips to hers. His tongue, gliding like silk, touched her own. She was mesmerized and made a pleasurable sound deep in her throat.
He seemed to burst into flame. His large hands came to bracket her face, to hold her fast against the growing pressure of his mouth and the exotic dance of his tongue. He delved as if for treasure inside. Tasted. Lily opened to him as a flower would to a bee.
Abruptly, he jerked away. His breath ragged, his hands dropped to his sides. He stared at her.
She stood very still, waiting to see if he would do it again.
He did not. His eyes became hard, dark. His expression transformed into a glare. Gone was the slow, sleepy quality that had made her think of troubadours and poets. He turned away as if he could not stomach the sight of her.
“Get out of here, Lily,” he said. He put one hand to his temple and rubbed. “You have no business being here alone. Go back to the inn, do not tarry on the way. And don’t let me find you without an escort again. Understand?”
Lily didn’t wait. She thought he must be insane. Her heart pounded with fright. Giving her orders as if he owned her. She fled.
* * *
By the time he left Mary of the Meadows, a black mood had settled on Edward. Diggens, his squire, recognized it at once, and his mouth snapped shut, discarding the quip he was about to make.
Edward worked hard to manage his moods, but he had a formidable temper. None of his elite guard, certainly, had any inclination to provoke it.
Usually, a single look of displeasure proved enough to put an end to anything like insubordination among his men.
That held true for others, in court, among his peers, the world at large.
Edward was the scion of a lordly house, a powerful magnate, and the confidant of influential people.
He had enemies, plenty. Men were easily jealous and covetous of what they lacked, but friend or enemy, the Black Raven was acknowledged as an honorable man. Honor remained his north star.
What happened inside the church was not honorable.
To be so undone by one trivial and possibly disloyal country ragamuffin appalled him.
Yet there he stood, drowning in the honey of her mouth, just one of the reasons he’d put a halt to things. It left him enraged, and he hardly understood how he’d allowed such a thing to happen.
Outside, a brisk wind took up his cloak and swirled it over his broad shoulders. He raised an eyebrow, and Diggens nodded. The unspoken communication came from years on the field together. There had been no need to hear if his instructions had been followed.
Lily had been seen safely back to the inn on Ha’penny Lane.
Damnable hell. Where did she think she was? The Queen’s promenade? He was so furious with Stanbury, he would have throttled him if he could.
It felt to him that his nerves had been grated over broken shards. Even so, the beginnings of a fierce lust stirred in his loins. He’d been reduced, blundering like a drunk, as if he’d lost the power of his will. Of all things, Edward knew, he could not tolerate that.
How dare she look at him with trust in her eyes? He could’ve been a ravisher, a felon, anyone…
Something would have to be done. And done quickly. That rat bag of a Percy had proved to be more cunning than anticipated. He’d planned to compromise her. Edward’s knights may have scared him off this time, but no doubt he would try again.
Edward mounted his horse, taking the reins from his squire, who immediately hurried to his own mount and made ready to ride. At the same moment, several shadows slid from doorways and archways near the church and vanished into the murky London streets.
* * *
Midnight came and went. Still, Edward sat stewing in the king’s waiting chamber. The vagaries of royal prerogative were well known to him.
Tonight, he chafed at the wasted time.
His own impatience rode him hard. He did not tolerate it well. In this instance, he had no choice. Henry, newly named king, governed his own time. And so, Edward dangled his heels and silenced his complaints, and the hours slouched toward cockcrow.
Henry had been coronated these three days past. There were more calls on his time than Edward’s request for a meeting. Finally, though, a page arrived to take him to the king.
They did not go to the audience chamber but passed it and went up a short corridor to the king’s bedchamber.
As he entered, a buxom little wench sprinted past him with a well-bedded smile upon her bonny face.
The sight did not please Edward overmuch.
“Why so dour a face, my friend? Should I have invited you to share?”
“Thank you, majesty, but I have only just discovered a preference for brunettes.”
Henry looked up at Edward with interest. Something in his tone alerted him.
“Any particular brunette?” he asked, a speculative cast to his expression.
“Aye, as a matter of fact, I do have one in mind.”
“Not the Lady Maud, Edward. For pity’s sake, say it isn’t so.”
“Rest easy. The one I have in mind might well provide a path to that solution you asked me for a few months back. There has been no time to bring you up to date with the progress I have made there, but if you have a moment, I will lay it out for you.”
Henry chuckled and lay back against the bed cushions; his arms folded across his chest. “By all means, but I put it to you that you have encountered the enchanting Lily Keeling. Am I right?”
“You are, indeed sire,” said Edward, returning the king’s thoughtful gaze.
“You do not suspect her of any involvement with the slurs and libels emanating from that den of vipers, I hope?”
“I do not rule out anything until I’ve carried out my plan. But you have my word that from this hour she, at least, will become your devoted subject.”
Their gazes met. The king smiled. Edward did not.
“You will make sure of it, I do not doubt.”
He nodded. “I would have your consent.”
“Come then, Edward, be at ease. I approve, full hearty. She is yours. What is more, I will dower her myself with Korrington, a goodly estate, if I recall. Beaufort informs me that her spendthrift father has whittled away his last sovereign. I doubt there is a dowry.”
Edward raised a brow. “’Tis gracious of you, sire. A fine demesne.”
“Seems fitting, for all those you acquired for my father. Now, lay out your strategy for me and be quick. I have not slept in three days.”
“Neither, your majesty, have I.”